We are headed to a lake and hours and hours of nothing planned. These are the light and breezy days we tuck away for the six of us to just be loved and love one another.
These are the days our souls need to catch up with our lives.
My soul needs new water, new wine, and new rivers sweetened with milk and honey to run through it.
Rest is a holy kind of ground, lit by flames that never burn and a Voice that proclaims, "This is who I AM. And you are the beloved in My great story."
Rest is where our able minds and bodies give up the doing and the making and the conquering, and fall down in worship. It is where broken hearts pitch a tent in the shadow of the Almighty. It's time sink into God, and be baptized afresh in the simplicity of His goodness.
I have said it before and I will say it again: God is not a lesson to be learned. He is a King to be worshiped, feared, and adored.
I long for what can never be taken away from me, to soak the Person who loves me most of all into my skin and let Him seep through and lift the weights that I have been asked to carry for a season of time, before He carries us all away in a cloud of triumph.
God can't be boxed up, written out, and memorized. His answers are always two ticks away from what we expect, and His ways are a surprising kind of wisdom that silences even the most battered heart.
For a couple of weeks, this blog will be a place of silent communion. It's time for a Sabbath rest with those I love most in the world.
May we all find Him tender, strong, and mighty in our silent places, and I will see you soon just over the horizon.